


it's not an April Fool's joke

by deciduousForest



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deciduousForest/pseuds/deciduousForest
Summary: Superman returns. Based on N52.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	it's not an April Fool's joke

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [但亲爱的这不是愚人节玩笑](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/595837) by 光吃不产的大初. 



Bruce noticed it when he first caught sight of the phantom of the red cape without paying much attention.

It’s been a long time since the fall of superman, after all, and Bruce had already crossed his hurdle—he once was such a mess that even the slightest sign ignited his hope, that the red and blue figure would return miraculously. More than once, he was mistaken about a flag on the building or a bird high across the sky.

And more than once, he woke up with a start at dawn and dusk after dreaming about Clark’s unannounced visit to Wayne Manor, and rose hastily to the door and windows.

Well, of course, empty door and windows. 

How could the sweet dreams be turned into reality?

It was through these fluctuant illusions and dreams that Bruce slowly crossed his hurdles, carefully tidying up to make sure he was alert enough for any other situation that required a clear mind.

He was the same Bruce Wayne with affairs and socials, haunting the meetings of Wayne Enterprises.

He was the same punctual, reliable adviser at the meetings of Justice League. Losing superman multiplied their work, and in addition, he had Gotham to take care of. 

So, y’ see, he didn’t bother—and daren’t bother to reveal his pain of losing his lover.

His suffering must be secret, discreet, not affecting the overall situation.

Fortunately, Batman is always good at it.

And that’s what makes Bruce Wayne. 

Bruce notices what looks like a red cape. Instead of falling into reverie as he did in the past, he looks around coldly, and withdraws his eyes when he spots a small red flag among the colorful flags in the high street.

It’s only a red flag.

He continues his night patrol.

April 1st. It’s a holiday he doesn’t like much. April Fool’s Day.

In other cities, it might be a day filled with jokes and laughter, while in Gotham, it’s the carnival of criminals. The lunatics put on a black comedy, in which only villains will laugh at the bloody plots.

Bruce hates it.

A more scary-looking bat crouches silently on the Gargoyle, watching his city as the last hour of the day passes.

And the second strange symptom occurs.

This time a bird flies into his view. It seemed to have bright colors to be discovered under the cover of the night, yet still cannot be distinguished. Probably a raptor of some kind. Even at a great distance, he observes its sizable body and wings to support its glide.

Bruce pays more attention to the bird.

Staring for a moment, the red cape jumps into his mind. Before he could know it, his eyes are back on the high street again.

Was that really a bird? Or was that a red flag that must be seen at a teeny angle?

His pulse races. An unspeakable impulse surge up from the bottom of his heart.

He closes his eyes to make the right decision after weighing for a moment. Then he presses the communicator to connect to Alfred.

“Any trouble, Master?” 

“Get me a regular antidote.”

Bruce attributes the long-lost vision and irresistible association to Scarecrow’s gas—is there anything more reasonable? Besides, he did arrest some of the gangsters of whom Scarecrow concerns.

He reasons that he did not inhale too much unless it’s a new type, since he hasn’t detected anything abnormal physically until—until he began to hallucinate that superman has returned.

“I see.” the old valet confirms with concern. “How are you feeling? Do you need to withdraw?”

“I...” 

Bruce pauses as he speaks.

His closed his eyes the moment he reached Alfred, and opens again when he answers.

And he sees—he sees—

He sees Clark.

Clark, alive and tangible.

Superman in red and blue floats in front of him, with a mixture of concern, apology and joy.

It seems as though he wants to get closer but halts. Even though floating in the air, his raring and hesitating gestures can be recognized.

“Master?” calls Alfred with deeper concern as a result of no response.

It is convinced that his old valet has already have his hands on the remote-control panel. As long as he remains silent for thirty seconds, Alfred will unilaterally terminate his night patrol base on his incapability.

But there is no need for Alfred to conduct. His night patrol should be over.

"I've had hallucinations that are real enough to confuse reality, " says Bruce, pressing on the tiny earpiece and staring at Clark’s phantom, “I’ll be right back. "

The phantom moves as if he wants to talk.

But Bruce jumps off the gargoyle before he could say anything.

“Shut up!” growls Batman at the phantom. He refuses to hear any of the words the phantom speaks.

If it is an April Fool’s joke of Scarecrow, the price he should pay would be very, very unforgettable. Bruce swears.

But he has to deal with the gas before Crane pays the price.

The hallucination arises from the memory of its victim, which makes it even worse. Superman chasing after him seems so vivid that even the subtle change in expression after being yelled at keeps the same as before.

And as stubborn as before. The growl cannot stop him from trying to communicate.

“Bruce, I—”

“No!”

Bruce cuts him off again, accelerating to the highest speed.

He needs the antidote. Every second counts.

It’s astonishing that the phantom seems to have a perfect copy of Clark’s consideration. Instead of trying to force a conversation, he silently watches the batmobile as it speeds, as if to escort the refitted vehicle.

The turning point occurs when Alfred meets him.

“My goodness!” the old valet hurries to his master, but the bright color in the Batcave is hard to ignore. With wonder, he turns to it and shocks, “Master Clark? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.” the phantom confirms.

Bruce freezes.

“…Alfred,” it is a long time before Bruce states slowly, “you can see him as well.”

“Indeed I can, Master.” answers Alfred cautiously.

Bruce—after avoiding his “hallucination” deliberately and getting the confirm from his old valet who will never deceive him, turns around to confront Superman.

“I may assume that it’s not an April Fool’s joke.”

Clark steps closer and reaches out his hand, “It’s not.”

He waits until Bruce raises his hand hesitantly to touch him, as if he was a dream to disturb.

Bruce does so with uncertainty.

While Clark holds his hand tight, conveying his warmth to wake Bruce up from a nightmare.

“I’m back, Bruce. It’s real.”

Alfred leaves quietly, leaving more room for them. He also takes the useless antidote away.

By the time Bruce realizes it, they are no longer in the Batcave.

He should have had a lot of questions. How did he come back? What have happened to him? Why didn’t he come back until now? Did he pay any price or suffer any harm in his return? Is he really in good health?

He has so much to ask.

But everything can be put aside except for his return itself. Everything fades into insignificance when he comes back.

“I’ve dreamed about your return, and the moment that you became ashes for many times.” he doesn’t want to talk about it. It seems like a complain after reunion, but the words slip out of his mouth, causing Clark to hug him tighter.

Bruce rests on the warm chest of Clark. Lying in the master bedroom of Wayne Manor, he is covered by the blanket-like red cape.

Never before has Bruce found the feel of the cape and Clark's chest so reassuring.

“Well, at least half of them sound like good dreams?” Clark carefully comments.

Bruce narrows his eyes and mutters something like “fool”. He curls deeper in the arms of Clark.

Clark immediately realizes his mistake after thinking about it.

There is no such thing as “half of them sound like good dreams”. Goods dreams in vain are dreams in pain. Since the day he left, every dream about him could only be a nightmare.

“I’m so sorry, Bruce.” says Clark, leaving a kiss on his hair.

Bruce shakes his head against his chest, “You don’t need to apologize, Clark. You didn’t mean that.”

“But I did leave you in suffering.”

“You’re back. It’s not a damn April Fool’s joke. That’s enough to make up for everything.”

There is an old clock in Wayne Manor. Just then, it strikes twelve.

It’s quiet in the Manor at midnight. The sound of the clock can be heard without super hearing.

“It’s a new day.” says Clark, after listening for some time.

“It’s a new day.” agrees Bruce, holding his lover’s hand.

Clark is still here. He’s not gone.

His sun rises again.


End file.
